


Jealous

by pterodactyldrops



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Second person POV, The Winter Palace, kiss meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 11:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4834382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterodactyldrops/pseuds/pterodactyldrops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Celene’s nice to look at, yeah?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jealous

You’ve decided that you don’t like the Winter Palace.

Granted, you’d made a face at the whole idea of a ball. Itchy uniforms, hair pinned in uncomfortable places, brand new boots that rubbed your feet all wrong. But you were trying.  _Creators, you were._  Even Josephine had admitted that much.

But really,  _this_  is the last straw.

“Empress is pretty.”

You’ve ignored the  _frosty_  reception you’ve received. The not-so-concealed dirty looks. The stage whispers about your ears. A few gasps as you walk by—which is daft. You’ve done nothing worth gasping about. You are walking. Literally walking. But none of this had gotten under your skin.

No,  _Sera_  did that. As she always does. Snickering Sera always sneaking under your skin.

You had made a  _beeline_  for her as soon as you saw her in the ballroom. You’d had half a dozen comments to share with her. Some jokes that would make her laugh so hard that she’d do her adorable, undeniably undignified snort through her nose.

All your words had dried up on your lips.

“You—she—what?” you sputter.

“Celene’s nice to look at, yeah?” Sera shrugs. It’s that one shoulder shrug she does and you know she’s not happy at your reaction. “Good thing we’re swooping in and saving her head, innit?”

“But,” you say, “I thought you said you don’t date pricks.”

Sera snorts loudly. But it’s not the same sort of snort you’d been hoping for. This one is at you instead of with you. “We’re at a  _ball ‘_ case you hadn’t noticed. They’re pricks everywhere. Gold and silk and hats don’t change that shite.”

_The Game_  be damned, this is one of those many, innumerable, countless times you wished you’d listened to Josephine and Leliana’s coaching. It’d be real nice if you could hide the put out look on your face. It’d stop Sera from cackling at you. There’s no reason for you to get upset. No reason at all. It’s just one comment. Just one comment on how the frigging  _Empress_  of  _Orlais_  is pretty—

“Jealous, Inky?” Sera coos. She bounds away from the table, hopping on the tips of her toes and edges of her feet. She stops when she’s an inch away from you. Plants her face right in front of you so you can see nothing but that annoyingly endearing smirk dancing on her face.

“ _No_ ,” you reply, crossing your arms tightly over your chest.

Sera cackles. “Yeah, right. Admit it. You’re jealous. Shouldn’t be,” Sera adds, eyes linger on your breast smashed together because of your crossed arms and tight uniform, “Your tits are a lot nice than hers.”

Your cheeks turn pink. “I don’t get jealous,” you ground out.

“Right, forgot about that,” Sera says. “Inquisitors and Heralds aren’t real people, yeah? Don’t have  _feelings_  like the rest of us.”

“That’s—you—I’m—”

Sera waits. It’s pretty surprising. She’s not a very patient person. Unless she’s teasing you. Or about to kiss you. She draws out those moments for her own entertainment, and you can’t really fault her, because you do the same.

“A  _little_  envious,” you finish lamely.

“Good.” Sera’s smirk is replaced by a wide grin. She leans in close and plants a disgustingly wet kiss on the tip of your nose. You make a face, but it’s destroyed by the grin you wear. “That’s more like my Inky.”

“ _That_  wasn’t much of a proper kiss,” you reply.

“Gotta be patient, honey tongue,” Sera teases. “Can’t do much in front of the Empress. She might get  _jealous_.”

“She wouldn’t,” you argue, “She’s not real people.”

“Not real people like  _us,_ ” Sera corrects. She smacks her shoulder against yours playfully before lacing your fingers together. “Now, your Gracious Ladybits, lets find the punch.”


End file.
